Page 57 of A Rational Man (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

M r. Darcy spent a good deal of time contemplating Anne’s words. No, he knew full well that his pride was not more important than winning Miss Bennet’s hand. He would make this avowal of love, and he would make it the very best proposal he possibly could.

He wrote it out, then wrote it out again, trying to find the best words, the most accurate words, to sum up his fruitless search in London, his obsession!

– no, that was not a good word – his preoccupation , yes, that was better!

– with Elizabeth Bennet! His inability to forget her, her hair, her eyes, her face, her voice!

How her gentle laugh haunted him, day and night!

His words began to run together in his fervent desire to explain the inexplicable, how a country miss of little importance had become his entire world, and so he crumpled up that page and began yet again.

By the time he finally thought himself ready, the weather had turned nasty. It rained and rained, and while Mr. Darcy had no hesitation in braving the weather to make his way to the parsonage, he knew that Mr. and Mrs. Collins would be there. He needed to see Miss Bennet alone, but how?

When the weather finally became pleasant again, he walked to the parsonage; but he saw Mrs. Collins’ form through the small window, and he turned back to Rosings.

Was Elizabeth never alone?

When Lady Catherine announced that she would invite the parsonage inhabitants to dinner the next night, as she required some diversion after the days of rain, Mr. Darcy was torn.

Would he have a moment with her? But he needed more than a moment!

He needed nine minutes, for he had timed his speech several times, and knew exactly how long it would take to deliver it.

***

When the dinner invitation came from Rosings, Elizabeth was decided – she would not go.

She could not bear another evening of Mr. Darcy offering his little tidbits of interest, his brief meaningful glances, when she knew it was all for nothing!

Flirting, that was all it was, and a woman with a broken heart had no interest in flirting with the man she had loved in vain.

She waited until late afternoon of the following day to announce her headache and her sincere desire not to introduce any sort of illness into the sanctified atmosphere of Rosings Park, for was Miss de Bourgh not rather frail?

Hearing this rationale, Mr. Collins hastily excused her, and commended her thoughtfulness. “Miss de Bourgh would be glad for such kindness,” he assured her.

***

When Mr. and Mrs. Collins finally left, Elizabeth went down to the parlour with a book. She would sit here and read until her host and hostess returned; she would listen to the descriptions of the food and who said what to whom, and then she would go to bed.

***

Mr. and Mrs. Collins arrived at Rosings Park, and reported that Miss Bennet had stayed at home so as not to risk Miss de Bourgh’s health. Anne, seated beside the Colonel, said that she was sorry to learn that Miss Bennet was not well, and hoped that she would be better quite soon.

The Colonel nodded at Anne’s words approvingly, and added his own hopes for Miss Bennet’s health.

Lady Catherine simply sniffed at the news; she was occupied in noting that Richard Fitzwilliam was now paying a good deal of attention to Anne.

Mr. Darcy was deeply disappointed to learn that Miss Bennet was not to join them for dinner, but this disappointment evaporated the moment he understood that Miss Bennet was at the parsonage by herself.

Unable to think of any excuse for his absence, he simply bowed to everyone in the drawing room, murmured “Excuse me,” and all but ran out the front door, Lady Catherine’s cry of “Darcy!” ringing in his ears.

He made his way to the parsonage, his heart pounding more from anticipation than from the exercise, and knocked on the front door. It was opened by the Collins’ maid, who said, in some surprise, “Mr. and Mrs. Collins are at Rosings Park, sir.”

He pushed past her without a word and went into the parlour, where Miss Bennet sat with a book.

Elizabeth rose, but she was so surprised at the intrusion that she could find nothing to say.

He took a step toward her and then stopped. “Miss Bennet,” he said. “Elizabeth!”

She took a step back.

Still across the room, he fell to his knees, and said, hoarsely, ““In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Elizabeth stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent.

All the carefully learned words of his beautifully written speech fled from Mr. Darcy’s mind.

Instead, he simply spoke from his heart.

“You are silent! I understand; my behaviour has been reprehensible from the start. I told you, again and again, that I was destined for someone better than you, while somehow I knew, of course I knew , that there could be no one better than you!”

He took a deep breath before continuing, in a lower tone, “I was shallow, I was foolish, all in the name of rationality, and I understand now, better than I could have ever understood before, that love is beyond rationality. It is its own self, its own sphere, and is more powerful than anything else. Love does conquer all, as Virgil says, and I was a fool to believe that I knew better.”

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth began, taking a step forward, but her voice faltered, and tears began to pool in her eyes.

Mr. Darcy rose and came to her. “Do not cry, beloved, but tell me – please! – that my love – my at long last spoken love! – is not in vain!” Now his own tears began, as he feared what her silence might mean.

And suddenly she was in his arms, and his lips found hers, their tears mingled, and all their questions were answered.